


Disaster

by sparxwrites



Category: The Tomorrow People (2013)
Genre: Character Study, Gen, I'm not really sure what this is to be honest, It's mostly me rambling, Tomorrow Person!Jedikiah
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-29
Updated: 2014-01-29
Packaged: 2018-01-10 12:27:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1159744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparxwrites/pseuds/sparxwrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jedikiah stares at his hands in betrayal, at the sheet of paper that was, seconds ago, across the desk – and is now settled neatly, squarely in front of him. All without him ever reaching across the table. <i>This can’t be happening.</i></p>
<p>(The rational part of his mind says of course it can, he’s the brother of one of the strongest breakouts they’ve ever seen, what the hell was he expecting.)</p>
<p>(The answer is, not this. Never this.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Disaster

This can’t be happening.

Jedikiah stares at his hands in betrayal, at the sheet of paper that was, seconds ago, across the desk – and is now settled neatly, squarely in front of him. All without him ever reaching across the table.  _This can’t be happening._

(The rational part of his mind says of course it can, he’s the brother of one of the strongest breakouts they’ve ever seen, what the hell was he expecting.)

(The answer is, not this. Never this.)

The signs were all there, if he’d been paying attention – insomnia, headaches, hearing voices. He’d blamed the headaches and insomnia on stress, though, and the voices on the insomnia. His job is high-pressure, after all; he’s well used to all the strange and varied symptoms that being awake for over forty hours straight can bring.

But he hadn’t noticed the signs, which is why he’s sitting at his desk at close to eleven at night, staring at a piece of blank paper that has just turned his life upside down.

After a long moment, he pushes it back across the desk – with his hands this time, not his mind – and then stretches out his fingers, wondering if it will come sliding back towards his hand at his beck and call. It doesn’t, but the biro sitting beside it jerks, rolls off the back of the desk and hits the floor with a thin clatter that makes him jump a little, sleep-deprived as he is.

This… this is a disaster.

He’s not stupid enough to think he can conceal this. True, his brother taught him some basic techniques to calm and clear his mind, to avoid the probing of the more amateur or careless telepaths, but they will not be enough to hide something this big. He, like everyone else, is checked regularly by senior telepaths, trained to get around exactly the kind of mental tricks he employed against that Tomorrow girl, Cara. He won’t be able to fool them.

That’s without even considering the Founder. There are no defences against the Founder’s telepathy, he knows that much. He would be discovered in seconds, and the punishment for trying to hide something of this magnitude…

No. He has to declare this, has to follow the proper channels so that those who need to know will be informed, and he has to then take the consequences of what has happened – even though it’s not his fault, even though he never asked for this.

He knows what the consequences will be. He’s not sure he can bear them.

Unacceptable. There has to be another option.

(For a brief, mad second, his mind flashes to the gun that sits in the top drawer of his desk, within easy arm’s reach, already loaded.)

( _Unacceptable_. There has to be another option. It wouldn’t work anyway, he realises – he can no longer kill. He supposes that includes himself.)

He thinks of the vials of antidote he knows lay a floor beneath his feet, currently unguarded. He’s got access to every room in the building, even if he met someone on his travels – unlikely, given the late hour – they’re hardly going to question him. It would be easy enough to inject himself, cleanse himself, make himself human again, doctor the security footage… No one would ever have to know.

Unacceptable. There has to be another option.

( _Hypocrite_ , he tells himself, voice biting and sneering.  _You cannot bring yourself to give up the thing you’ve taken so easily, without a second thought, from countless others. You’ve realised you’re not human, and suddenly you’re willing to turn your back on everything you’ve ever fought for, just like that. Hypocrite._ )

(He knows he is. He’s never had a problem admitting his failings to himself – lists them every morning to his reflection in the bathroom mirror so he won’t forget the things he’s done, the prices paid to get where he is today.)

There is another option, he realises slowly, stretching out his fingers again and watching the piece of paper creep towards his hand, almost reluctantly. There is one more option, an option that would turn him into a true hypocrite, make a mockery of everything he’s worked for and fought for, make his purpose for the past two decades a lie.

It’s the only option that ends with him alive, though; and at the end of the day, he’s selfish. Survival comes first, morals come second.

Whether the Tomorrow People would be willing to take him in should he seek asylum with them is another matter, though. On the one hand, his entire career has been based around fighting against them. He’s killed several of their number, both directly and indirectly, made the lives of the others incredibly hard, done his best to thwart them at every turn.

On the other, he has information to sell. Lots of information. The promise of an insider’s view into Ultra, an insider with a security clearance as high as his, would likely be extraordinarily tempting if they’re anything like as sensible as he sincerely hopes they are. That, along with John’s enduring weakness for him – he’s not blind, knows the boy still loves him, has yet to find the strength to dig within himself and cut those last few ties to the only thing resembling family he’s ever known – might be enough to guarantee his safety, if not their help.

The only problem with his plan, though, is that he doesn’t know where to find them.

But he knows who does.

(No matter what Stephen thinks, he’s not stupid.)

With a deep breath, he focuses, centering himself. He’s never teleported before, not on his own – he’s felt the cold pull of it on the arm of various operatives, clutching at John more than once, but never by himself. He knows the theory, though, knows the mathematics and physics of it down to the decimal places, could recite it in his sleep.

He’s not sure theory’s enough, but for now it will have to do.

Another deep breath, and he closes his eyes, concentrates, and vanishes.

**Author's Note:**

> (My first venture into the TTP fandom! I’m… not quite sure what this is. I think it’s some kind of strange character analysis thing - I’m still trying to work out exactly how to write Jed, what sort of angle I want to approach him from, which is complicated because he basically seems to be an irredeemable genocidal maniac and I want to find a way to write him as sympathetic. Hey ho. Anyway, hopefully people enjoy this. I’ve got some more stuff coming up soon (shippy stuff) so maybe hang around?)


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